


i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

by jehoney



Series: jughead and archie [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie POV, Asexual Character, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, and it's cute ok, archie watches jug, genuinely not as creepy as the description makes it sound lmao, just a lil drabble, there's a lil bit of pining, while he's asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehoney/pseuds/jehoney
Summary: It feels uncomfortably intimate: Jug’s always been the observer, the one to be watching from the edge. Watching under the bleachers, watching from the corners of corridors, watching the people watching the movie at the drive in. To look at him like this is a luxury, because awake Jughead would never let Archie’s eyes roam over him the way they do now.archie likes to watch jughead while he sleeps, for he is so beautiful yet so unaware of it





	

**Author's Note:**

> rip this is painfully short and not proofread but i just had to write something for these dudes that includes brief aesthetic appreciation for cole sprouse and jughead getting the Sleep He Deserves.
> 
> enjoy !

There’s a soft blue glow in the corner of his vision as Archie blinks himself back to consciousness, blearily. It pushes at his left-hand side, and he knows it’s from Jughead’s laptop before he’s even fully awake, though the familiar tapping of the keyboard is absent.

Through a sliver of the curtains, small town moonlight lays itself out on Archie’s bed and he rubs the back of his hand over his eyes and up, through his hair. He’s not got the energy to push himself upright, but he hauls himself over to face Jughead; he expects to see him plugged in, watching some art movie through his world- cancelling headphones, but he’s met instead with Jug, hands limp on the keys, head resting at a painful angle against the headboard whilst he snoozes. Archie can’t help but stare: there are moles littered up the exposed length of his neck, there’s a wet spot in the corner of his mouth, his unruly dark hair has rebelled against his cap and pushed it to only cling onto its position by the way his head pins it to the wall. Scraps of exhaustion have settled under his eyes, have had residence there for months, Archie knows, and it’s good to see him like this. Peaceful, with his sardonicism erased by the simplicity of sleep. 

It feels uncomfortably intimate: Jug’s always been the observer, the one to be watching from the edge. Watching under the bleachers, watching from the corners of corridors, watching the people watching the movie at the drive in. To look at him like this is a luxury, because awake Jughead would never let Archie’s eyes roam over him the way they do now. Maybe that’s why Archie feels so guilty. He feels like he’s spying on Betty changing from across the window, like he’s finding the presents he’d been bought for Christmas, hidden under the stairs. The guilt twists in him as Archie realises how much he wants to drag his mouth up that neck and tangle his fingers in that hair—and how much Jughead would never want him to.

The screen is showing some abstract, swirling screensaver, and the light throws Jughead’s face into ugly shadows, and Archie isn’t going to lie, he’s more than slightly afraid of touching Jug’s laptop under any circumstances, but he manages to inch it out from his lap and set it down beside the bed. (He reminds himself not to forget about it and tread on it come morning, because then Jug really would kill him.) Slowly, gently, he eases Jug down the bed, careful to remove his hat (deposited on top of the computer: a veritable pile of Jughead’s Favourite Things) and keep his hands above the guy’s waist, because especially when he’s asleep, boundaries are boundaries. Once the pillows have been rearranged, Archie takes one hell of a flying chance and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Jughead’s mouth, before settling back down beside him. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a lopsided smile flicker imperceptibly across his face, but puts that down to dreaming, or his insanely comfortable bed, or possibly the exceptional burgers they’d had at Pop’s the night before. And as Jughead rolls over and murmurs something that sounds like it could be his name, Archie attributes it wholeheartedly to coincidence, not the invisible yet tangible line that he feels vibrating between the two of them in the dark. But, as one of Jughead’s hands feebly seeks out his own in his midway-sleep-wake state, and Archie links their fingers together, he doesn’t think he can deny anything anymore.


End file.
